


they thought he was a goner

by yeswayappianway



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU
Genre: Gen, Late Night Conversations, Trauma, comic book death, disscussion of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23210515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeswayappianway/pseuds/yeswayappianway
Summary: Tim’s eyes gleamed a little in the light from the TV screen. “We know an abnormally large amount of people who’ve come back from the dead, don’t we?”“Bigger than zero, so yeah,” Jason said.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 16
Kudos: 97





	they thought he was a goner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sevidri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevidri/gifts).



> what is the tone of this fic? we just don’t know. also, please ignore the flagrant picking and choosing of various canons
> 
> title from The Cat Came Back (version I listened to was by Fred Penner) because that song freaked me the fuck out as a kid. shit's creepy.

“Hm,” Tim announced as Gandalf rode across the screen. Jason looked over at where he was curled in an armchair, and waited for the rest to come. Tim didn’t say anything else, though. It was hard to tell if he was lost in thought or just hadn’t meant to say anything out loud in the first place.

It was just the two of them, holed up in Tim’s apartment, watching The Two Towers. Everyone else had been some combination of “not interested in your nerd shit” (Steph had been _very_ clear about her reasons), busy, or not invited. They’d watched Fellowship a few weeks ago, but neither of them had time to watch more than one extended edition at a time, and getting schedules to line up was hard enough for things like patrol or Alfred-declared family dinners. Jason was convinced it would be at least a month until they got to Return of the King. It was nice, though.

Jason kept looking at Tim. Tim’s eyes were narrowed, squinting at the TV. Even if Tim did secretly need glasses (Jason had money riding on that, as a matter of fact), the TV was fucking enormous enough that there was no way he couldn’t see what was happening. “ ‘Hm’ what?” he finally gave up and asked.

“Does everyone go through a color change when they come back from the dead?” Tim asked.

 _What_.

Tim must have realized he wasn’t getting a response just from that, because now he looked over at Jason. “Well, Gandalf comes back as Gandalf the White. You came back, and now you’re Red Hood. I feel like there have to be other examples.”

“I—” Jason started, and then stopped. “That’s different.”

Shrugging, Tim said, “Is it? I don’t know, I just thought of it. I guess most everyone else who’s come back didn’t dramatically change color schemes.”

Jason sagged back against the arm of the couch, and grabbed the remote. “Are we talking in movies, or in life?”

“Either. What about other things?” Tim didn’t even notice when Jason paused the movie.

“What other things?”

Tim sat up a little straighter. “Like, sometimes people come back wrong. Pet Sematary and Buffy and stuff like that. I think that happened to Raven once or twice, too. Didn’t Green Arrow come back without a soul?”

Jason tried to quietly let out the breath he’d been holding. Memories of his time with the League and his return to Gotham had flashed through his head the second Tim had said “come back wrong” and he was grateful that Tim hadn’t included him. Jason shrugged, belatedly realizing that Tim had asked a question.

“I’m pretty sure he did,” Tim said absently. “And then, there’s things like Damian.”

Still willing his breathing to return to normal, Jason snorted. “What, coming back with superpowers?”

Tim nodded. “Yeah, exactly. I think that happened to Superman, too. Or, you know. Stronger superpowers.”

“Jesus, really?” Jason shuddered. “I mean, Clark’s Clark and all, but if anyone doesn’t need more superpowers, it’s him.”

“Sort of Doomsday’s whole thing,” Tim said. He was looking at Jason intently now, and Jason wondered when this turned from an idle thought to what was feeling increasingly like a pointed conversation. Maybe it never had been just a thought. Tim was good at that, making things seem normal until they weren’t.

“Yeah,” Jason agreed. If Tim really was trying to build up to something, it was usually better to let him get there.

Tim’s eyes gleamed a little in the light from the TV screen. “We know an abnormally large amount of people who’ve come back from the dead, don’t we?”

“Bigger than zero, so yeah,” Jason said. “I mean, we know an abnormally large amount of aliens and people who do magic and metahumans, so it’s not like we’re a statistically normal bunch.”

“That’s true,” Tim conceded. “And pretty much everyone had to deal with the Black Lantern rings, so maybe we’re a bit less of an outlier than we used to be.”

An outlier. Sometimes Jason forgot that his entire existence was an anomaly, and sometimes it was painfully present, rattling around inside his head over and over. “Yeah,” he said again.

“I’m just saying, death feels a lot less permanent than I thought it was as a kid,” Tim said. Jason knew him well enough to know that he was picking his words very carefully right now.

“What are you getting at?” Jason asked. He was abruptly tired of this. It was supposed to be a quiet evening. They were supposed to be having fun.

Tim took a deep breath and then very deliberately made eye contact with him. “I’m saying, I don’t know why you think death would be a permanent solution to the Joker when we have so many counter-examples.”

Jason was speechless for a long minute, practically thoughtless, his brain scrambling to try and catch up. This was so far beyond what he had thought Tim might be trying to say, and nothing had prepared him for this.

Watching him, Tim added, “Just think, he could come back with superpowers.”

“This isn’t fucking funny,” Jason choked out. His throat felt like it didn’t want to work.

“No, it’s not,” Tim agreed. “But I don’t think I’m wrong. Regardless of whether I think killing is a good or a bad solution, I think it’s only fair to acknowledge that we have plenty of evidence to suggest that it isn’t actually even a solution at all. If nothing else, I’m talking to you.”

Jason lurched upright. “Don’t— don’t talk about me and— and _him_ in the same breath. We’re not—” Jason took a deep breath, unclenching his hands. “I’m nothing like him.”

Tim didn’t even look bothered, which made Jason want to lunge at him. Anger was easier than the rest of the churning mess of emotions racing through his head right now. Still, it was Tim. This wasn’t some dumbass on the street, or even Bruce. He’d made himself a promise to try not to hurt Tim after—everything he had done when he came back.

“I didn’t say you were. You’re _not_ ,” Tim said, and that wasn’t the same neutral, calm tone Tim had been using. Tim wanted him to know that he meant that. Jason took another breath. He could listen to what Tim had to say, and then, then he could leave if he needed to. If this was about to turn into another lecture. “I’m just saying,” Tim continued, “that you’re proof that death doesn’t always get rid of someone permanently. And that’s your reason for killing the Joker, right? That it would finally get rid of him permanently, so that he couldn’t hurt anyone else.”

Jason didn’t say anything.

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, Jason,” Tim leaned forward, eyes intense and hands gripping the arms of the chair. Jason wondered how long he’d been thinking about this. “I don’t know what I think. I just know that there have been too many times that we’ve thought something was dealt with for good and then it popped back up again. What if something like Etrigan got a hold of him? What if Darkseid brought him back somehow? Ares could probably do it. Luthor could get a hold of his DNA, make a clone.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel _better_?” Jason rasped. It didn’t. His brain was happy to supply him with what that might look like. It had probably featured in his nightmares before. He was sure it would now.

Tim shook his head. “No. I just want you to tell me, honestly, that you think there’s absolutely no chance that, if you were to kill the Joker, he wouldn't come back, maybe worse than before.”

Jason opened his mouth, ready to spit out that it didn’t matter, what mattered was _doing_ something for fucking once, but the words never came. Tim… wasn’t wrong. He wanted to argue that they could stop that, they could cremate the body, dissolve it in acid, hide it away, but there were too many options. 

“How long have you been thinking about this?” Jason asked roughly. He was resisting the urge to curl up on the couch. _You’re not a fucking child anymore_ , he told himself, _deal with it_.

Tim sunk back into the chair a bit. “A while,” he admitted. “I just… I can’t find it in myself to believe that anything could get rid of him.”

Fuck. Jason stared across the room, not seeing anything, just remembering… 

“Jason,” Tim said quietly. Jason jolted out of his memories.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Fuck, Tim, I can’t—”

“Hey,” Tim said. He sounded concerned. “Jason, shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t… what can I do?”

Helpless, Jason shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

Tim was in front of him within seconds. “Jason, look at me,” he said. Jason recognized that voice. He’d used that voice himself, talking to shell-shocked victims at a crime scene. “You’re here. He’s not. We’re in my apartment. It’s safe.” Tim put a hand on Jason’s knee. Almost as an afterthought, Jason realized that Tim was kneeling in front of him.

“Yeah,” Jason mumbled. He took a deep breath, focusing on the couch under him, Tim’s hand on his knee, the quiet hum of the air conditioning in the background. “Yeah, okay. I’m… I’m good.”

Tim just raised an eyebrow, worry still written all over his face.

“Fuck off,” Jason said shakily. “Like you don’t say you’re fine when you’re nearly dying.”

“Fair enough,” Tim said, laughing a little. They stayed like that for a while, Tim grounding Jason and Jason trying to regain his equilibrium.

“I’m sorry,” Tim said eventually. “I think I’m right, but I didn’t think about what I was saying… or, I didn’t think about how it would sound—”

“S’okay,” Jason interrupted before Tim could say anything else. It wasn’t, but it wasn’t Tim’s fault. “We should watch the rest of the movie.”

Tim leaned back, eyes searching Jason’s face for something. Jason had no idea if he would find it. “Are you sure?”

Nodding, Jason reached for the remote. He hit play. The music settled something in his chest, a point of normality to cling to.

Tim stood up, but instead of going back to his chair, he settled himself sideways on the opposite end of the couch. Fishing behind his back, he pulled out the quilt that had been draped on the end of the couch. “Here,” he said, shaking it out and offering one end to Jason as he tucked the other around his feet.

Jason mirrored his position, back against the arm of the couch and legs stretched toward the middle. The quilt was warm and soft, and Jason felt a tiny bit more of the tension drain out of him. “Thanks,” he murmured.

“Least I could do,” Tim said. “Come on, we have a lot more movie to get through.”

**Author's Note:**

> this happened because sevidri messaged our chat about this whole idea, and also specifically "what if he came back with powers?" to which i (very sensibly, imo) replied "oh god" and "horrifying", and i was also talking to someone else about tim and jason's dynamic, and now here we are *jazz hands*
> 
> i'm feeling a little eeehhhhh about linking this ao3 account to my other social medias for various reasons rn, but feel free to hang out in the comments and talk to me about more questions like 'what is more terrifying than the joker with superpowers??'


End file.
